


Burn These Strings

by Tabithian



Series: Light the Path [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4410122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim should be home, should have been there hours ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn These Strings

**Author's Note:**

> Anon wanted more of the Glitch in the System 'verse (which unfortunately isn't cooperating with me at the moment) or young Tim and Jason meeting in their civilian lives. (And Tim's inner monologue reminding him not to be creepy, lol.)

Tim should be home, should have been there hours ago.

His parents are gone again, a business trip for Drake Industries and Tim doesn't feel like going home to an empty house, or one that's as good as empty with his current caretaker. There was a teacher conference day at school, classes ending early and Tim had his camera and an itch to, not explore, but _see_.

And, Tim shouldn't be this amused by it, but it's something of a novelty to be wandering Gotham in broad daylight with his camera.

He's distracted, staring up at the buildings thinking of angles and composition, and inevitably runs into someone.

“Hey, watch where you're going, buddy,” someone says, but it's angry, not even irritated, more. Amused?

“Oh, uh,” Tim stammers, lets the camera fall against his chest, strap pulling at the back of his neck. “Sorry, I was distracted.”

There's a quiet snort, and, “Yeah, no kidding.”

Tim feels the heat in his cheeks, rubs his nose and looks up at - 

“Hey, you all right?”

Tim takes a step back, because.

“Kid?”

Jason Todd is looking at him with concern, hand stretched out to him, but not touching because Tim probably looks like a freak, and, oh God. 

Jason Todd.

 _Robin_.

Tim keeps staring at him, hands coming up to clutch his camera and slowly becomes aware there's a mantra in the back of his head, a steady, _don't be creepy, don't be creepy, don't be creepy_ , and groans because wow, no. 

Totally failed that one. 

“Jesus, do you need me to call someone?” Jason asks, and that's his hand on Tim's arm, the other one pressed against his forehead.

“No!” Tim blurts out, shrinks into himself when Jason blinks at him, startled.

 _He's still touching Tim_.

“I'm okay!” Tim says, pulls something like a smile together. “I'm fine, just, uh. Tired?”

Jason drops his hands, _looks_ at Tim.

“Tired.”

“Yes!”

_Don't be creepy, don't be creepy, don't be creepy._

Tim's eyes dart to the side, reflexively looking for Bruce, _Batman_ , but but- 

“This,” Jason says, waving a hand at Tim. “This does not look like 'tired' to me.”

Tim wonders what it does look like to him, and the shuts down that line of thought because he probably doesn't want to know. 

“Um.”

Tim thinks, grasping for straws when he comes up with, “Sleep deprivation!”

Jason.

“You're what, five? Six? What the hell is keeping you from getting sleep? Worried Dora's going to get lost? Or, no, maybe - ”

“You're a jerk,” Tim finds himself saying, because he's small for his age, okay? 

Jason laughs, and, _oh_ , that's a better look for him than worry about the weird kid.

“Eh,” Jason says, waggles a hand. “Just a little bit, yeah.”

Tim sighs, and Jason.

“No offense,” Jason says, looking him over. “But aren't you kind of young to be wandering around Gotham alone?”

Tim.

“I, um.”

The answer is yes, because Gotham, but.

Tim looks up at Jason, who doesn't seem to in a rush to be anywhere, and. Oh, this is a terrible idea. 

“Kid?”

“I have an assignment for class,” Tim lies, holds his camera up. “It's due on Friday and I still need to finish it.”

Jason cocks his head to the side, thinking. 

Tim watches him watching the people moving around them, the few tucked away from the flow of traffic in little pools of shadow, Jason's expression darkening when one of them looks over.

Tim checks and rechecks the settings on his camera, so familiar with them he doesn't need to look. (Necessary, if he doesn't want to be see when he's out in Gotham at night.) 

Jason sighs, drags a hand over his face. 

Tim goes very, very still.

A sigh, and Jason's looking at him, crooked little smile on his face. “You mind if I tag along?”

“Uh, sure? Unless there's something you need to do, because this might take me a while,” Tim says, frantically running through ideas, things he can photograph, to keep the lie going, _what is he doing_. 

_Don't be creepy, don't be creepy, don't be creepy._

Too late, Tim blew past that a long time ago.

“Kid,” Jason says, flicks Tim on the forehead. “Do I look like I have anything better to do?”

Tim frowns, taking in Jason's clothes. A little rumpled, sure, but they're clean and nice looking and - 

And there's a faint red mark on one cheek, darkening to purple. A quick glance at his hands - 

“Yeah,” Jason says, knowing Tim sees the scraped knuckles. “If you don't mind a punk like me keeping you company, I'm good.”

And Tim.

“You're not a punk,” he says, surprising even himself with the vehemence behind it. “I. You.”

He _can't_.

He can't tell Jason how amazing he is because he's Robin, can't tell him -

“Hey, hey, whoa, calm down, kid. It's okay, okay? Nothing I couldn't handle.”

That's.

Tim close his eyes, practices the breathing exercises he's been learning, inhale, exhale. 

When he feels calm again, he opens his eyes to see Jason studying him carefully.

“It's. I would really like it if you came along,” Tim says, careful with his wording. “I could use the company.” 

Jason shrugs, puts on a smile that almost look real. “Yeah, whatever, kid. What say we get this show on the road?”

Tim bites his lip, watches Jason from the corner of his eye.

Says, “My name is Tim,” quiet, oh, so careful.

Jason slides a look at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches, ever so slightly.

“Nice to meet you Tim,” he says. “I'm Jason.”

And then he grins, ruffles Tim's hair, says, “This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Tim makes a face, tries to pull free, but Jason won't let him and Tim sags, mutters, “That's not how it goes.”

He's seen the movie, watched it with one of his caretakers who hadn't minded if Tim wandered downstairs when he was supposed to be sleeping and watched old black and white movies with them. 

“See,” Jason says, and he's laughing now, giving Tim a little push to get him moving. “What did I say?”


End file.
